


such selfish prayers

by haloud



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Bonding, Character Study, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Massage, Sexual Tension, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 13:03:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8015077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyde is a stranger to devotion, but he wants to bend down close and work magic into every part of his Eve's being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	such selfish prayers

**Author's Note:**

> title is from bedroom hymns by florence + the machine. original doc title was "hyde's thirst"

Licht grew used to living in the fanciest hotel rooms money could buy over the years he toured the world.  Hyde used to think that he was just a bit of a spoiled brat when he got so specific about his room requests: “I want three rooms close together—but not adjoined—on the tallest floor so nothing obstructs the view.  One of them must have two beds and a window facing east.  Please remove the blackout curtains.  And you must accept pets.”

His real motivations are quickly discovered, however, as soon as Guildenstern flops down on the bed away from the window and refuses to move for any reason.  Hyde falls asleep easily that night but is awakened rudely in the morning the moment the first shaft of sunlight hits him and a cage door slams shut on his hedgehog form.

Licht’s plan works infuriatingly well, since Guil—“my very own subclass!” Hyde wails—cooperates so staunchly.

“The less I have to deal with your shit the better it is for the both of us,” Licht snaps, shaking the cage a little bit while Hyde squeaks furiously.

But things do change after everything, after captivity, after Tsubaki, after C3.  Being together begins to feel more natural than being apart.  Kranz seems to feel all the relief of a parent whose two children have finally stopped trying to pull each other’s hair out; Licht and Hyde still bicker and spar at every opportunity, but the moments of quiet in between start stretching longer, and Hyde, at least, finds himself soothed sometimes just by silence in an angel’s presence.

His favorite part of their developing tolerance for each other’s company is the chance to wake up a little slowly and to wake up almost every morning to the sight of Licht stretching.  Licht takes to fighting the same way he takes to everything else—with arrogant assumption that he will be or become the best at it, and the dedication to back up his words.  So he stretches every morning—contorts himself into all manner of shapes that Hyde finds fascinating to watch.  Hyde lies on his side well into the morning, just out of reach of the sunlight, and lets his eyes linger on every part of his Eve, studying a different feature every day, easing himself slowly out of dreams.

There’s no way Licht doesn’t know.  Hyde doesn’t question why he allows it.

They spar more often now, constructively rather than belligerently.  Hyde losing to Tsubaki troubles everyone; Licht losing to Higan is apparently a more personal failure that he has sworn to never let happen again.  Thus, sparring.  Hyde’s fencing skills haven’t been tested this completely in centuries, and Licht holds nothing back when they fight.  Hyde sports more bruises now than he did when they hated each other.

But all the stretching and all the sparring can’t prepare for every eventuality, and in the end it’s an accident that lays Licht flat. 

Even without his full powers, Hyde is more than capable of handling himself.  The two of them, Greed and his Eve, are the ones sent out most often to chase away lurking subclass and pursuing C3 agents.  The accident occurs on one of these routine runs.  Their target this time goes down easy, and Licht lets him off with only a threat, even when Hyde already has his rapier poised to sever his spine.  But he knows best of all that the angel’s commands are absolute, and one hapless C3 thug isn’t worth the argument they’d have if Hyde killed him anyway. 

They travel best by rooftop on nights like this, when anything down below on the street is too busy and too human and too loud for them to bother.  So they just jump, Licht assisted by his boots and by Hyde himself whenever necessary.  They’re almost back to their rooms, back to the promise of a hot meal at Sendagaya’s, when Licht puts a foot wrong on a landing and ends up losing his balance and skidding several feet across the concrete.  When he climbs to his feet his face is bone-white, but Licht stubbornly refuses to take his weight off his injured leg and poises to make the next leap.  But Hyde grabs him by the backpack and hold him down.

“Let me carry you,” Hyde says.

Licht snorts in utter derision.  “You think I haven’t had worse pain than this?  Fuck off, shit rat.  Don’t hold me back.”

“It’ll just get worse if you do anything else to it right now.  I’ll just carry you this once and then you can soak it in the hot spring.”

He grumbles but relents, allowing Hyde to support him as far as the gates of the spring.  And once he’s resting in the water, he even lets Hyde lay out on the side and feed him from a plate of Mrs. Sendagaya’s food like he’s some sort of little prince.

Hyde’s dealt with royalty before, of course, even apart from just Ophelia, who had never really asked any service of him. His nature drives him to do so more than any of his siblings except maybe Pride—who tends to avoid nobility all the same because he can’t stand arrogance in people besides himself.

Drawn to charisma and attention and things that shine, Hyde has made himself servile to all sorts of rich and famous over his long life.  But he’s never before felt the same sly joy in service that he feels now, with Licht.

When Licht pulls himself out of the water, his jaw clenches and Hyde can see the muscles of Licht’s arms trembling a bit at even this exertion.  He hooks a hand under Licht’s arm and carefully helps him out, allowing him to lean on his arm as they make their way back to the rooms they’re renting here.  Licht tries to shove him off in the doorway to his bedroom, but instead of just going away as usual, Hyde speaks.

“I was once a masseuse, you know,” he says, wiggling his fingers.  “I can help you out.”

“Who says I want your hands on me, shit rat?”

“Relax, Lich-tan.  I’m just trying to help,” Hyde drawls.  But he honestly  _ does  _ want to help—seeing this angel wincing in pain is fun in some contexts, but more inconvenience than anything else now that Hyde’s lost jin make coordination and strategy more important than ever.  With Lily and Hugh still out of commission, they can’t really afford to have Licht injured.

“Alright, but if I suspect for even a second you’re lying and using this as an excuse to grope me I’ll kill you ‘til you die.”  Licht limps heavily into his room and leaves the door open, allowing Hyde to follow.

“Point taken, Angel-chan.  Now just lay down and get comfortable, and I’ll go find some lotion or oil somewhere around this place.”

He doesn’t have to go far; he finds a suitable bottle of lavender oil in the bathroom and returns to the bed.  By the time he gets back—the whole endeavor having taken maybe a minute and a half—Licht is laying down on his stomach, shirtless and radiating sullenness.

Hyde feels a little light-headed as he takes his time approaching, circling the bed once before climbing up next to Licht.

“I’m going to start by seeing where you’ve built up tension and go from there,” Hyde says; his own voice sounds very far away. 

The first brush of his hand against Licht’s bare skin raises goosebumps on them both.

“Well, what are you waiting for, then?  Get this over with.”

He starts with light presses, gently feeling out Licht’s shoulders, neck, and back, working his way down to Licht’s legs.  Licht hisses when he touches the left leg, so Hyde lightens his touch until only his fingertips skim lightly across the slight reddening of his skin.

Licht is quiet, focused.  His breathing and heartbeat stay steady and even as Hyde explores his knotted muscles.  To begin, Hyde rolls his knuckles into the small of Licht’s back.

They don’t speak, and Hyde, normally so opposed to stillness of any kind, cannot do anything but think.

Licht is spread out beneath him, and in Licht’s presence Hyde is occupied only by the one question that never leaves his mind in a voice accompanied by piano music:  _ What do you want, Lawless of Greed? _

In one of his many lives—his Eve that time had been, uncommonly for him, an accountant, but he’d had the most uncanny knack at gambling Hyde had ever seen—in one of his lives, Hyde had been a tattoo artist.  It was one of the best part-time jobs he’s ever had; the buzz of the needle gun, that inky-blood smell that clung to everyone’s skin, the casual acceptance of even the strangest of Hyde’s behaviors among this little group of artists, he’d loved it all.  But he never turned the gun on himself, though the temptation sometimes arose. 

_ Ophelia,  _ in ink.  It was a stupid idea, in all honesty.  Like putting a dead woman’s name on his skin would immortalize her any better than the statue had.  What do you want, Lawless of Greed, he’d asked himself then.  You want to lose what you’ve regained of your mind when you watch vampire healing erase her again and again?

The other artists laughed endlessly whenever someone came in asking for the name of a lover or a spouse, and Hyde laughed the hardest of all.  They put up posters in the shop informing customers of the statistics of how many name tattoos ended in tragedy.  Hyde gained infamy for sometimes misspelling the lover’s name on purpose, even though he generally specialized in word art.

In the long day hours, though, as he dozed beneath his Eve’s desk, the idea refused to leave his mind.

_ Ophelia,  _ and an olive branch.

In the end, he hadn’t done it.  And he hadn’t waited very long to murder the accountant and be done with it, either.

_ What do you want, One and Only? _

He straddles Licht’s back, and he pushes his palms hard against splayed-out shoulder blades.  Licht grunts underneath him as, fascinated, Hyde works his hands across the smooth expanse of his back.

What does he want?  He wants  _ ink.   _ He wants to feel the gun vibrate in his hand, he wants to lean down close and whisper  _ hold still  _ against the shell of Licht’s ear, and he wants to touch needle to skin again and again until he’s satisfied.

He wants  _ light;  _ he’d use white, he thinks, something that would lay flat against Licht’s skin, something that would lay so flat against him that each drag of the needle feels more like peeling back the outer layer to reveal what’s underneath than it feels like drawing lines.  White ink is tricky to get right, but Hyde would do his research, Hyde would spend the money on the best materials, Hyde would take it slow and easy no matter how long it took.

_ What do you  _ _ want _ _ , Hyde? _

He wants the world to  _ know.   _ He digs his fingers into Licht’s shoulders next, rubbing little circles into the tight knots he finds there.  Remiges and retrices, from scapula to phalange, he wants to bend down close and work magic into every part of his Eve’s being; Licht never truly relaxes around him, but he’s damn near to it when Hyde lightens his touch to skim lovingly down the backs of his arms.

Primary, secondary, tertiary: he’d carve pinions onto each long finger, he’d even trace down into the small of Licht’s back.  He wouldn’t miss a single detail.  He’d be gentle, even, he’d put aside  _ them  _ being  _ them  _ to wipe away angel blood as it beaded up red and angry under his artwork.  He’d even resist the urge to lick it up to make sure the ink dried right, as honored as he’d be to drink up proof of this boy’s divinity.

And he wants it.  He wants  _ blood.   _ He wants the one thing he’s never gone without.  Right now, right this moment, he wants to bury his face in Licht’s neck and drink long and deep, and—

“Don’t get too excited back there,” Licht says.  The muscles of his back flex as he shifts.  Hyde’s teeth ache.

He licks his dry lips.  “Where’s it hurt the most, Lich-tan?

Silence.  Hyde ponders not for the first time on a world where roles were changed and rather than himself Licht picked Old Child up off the street that day.  Pride would look good on Licht.  Most things would; Hyde often looks over his siblings and preens to himself that, indisputably, his Eve is the greatest.  The strongest.  The most unique.  And he’s  _ mine,  _ he always thinks, body singing in every step that sends through him a jarring reminder of the bruises Licht leaves on him.

But, proud as he is, Licht isn’t a fool, and Hyde has apparently proven himself in this particular art.  Licht huffs into the pillow and says, “Back and legs, but legs are worse.”

Hyde slides off of Licht’s back and takes his leg carefully in hand.  He strokes his thumbs in long lines out from Licht’s bruised shin and massages circles into the calf; he goes up and down his leg three times before moving to the right one.  But a foot to the face holds him off momentarily; Licht rolls over onto his back.

His heavy-lidded gaze makes the hair on the back of Hyde’s neck prickle and heart pound. 

“Continue,” Licht says.

And Hyde does, now slower and firmer than before, and with Licht’s eyes boring holes in him he takes extra care to place every touch correctly, to work his magic until he actually sees that angel armor crack.

When he’s worked his way down Licht’s right leg for the third time, he pauses, his fingertips lingering in the hollow of Licht’s ankle.  The boy has a narrow body, lean and fine-boned; and Hyde cups his palm around Licht’s heel and wonders if perhaps he’s hollow after all.

Hyde’s never picked up construction, not in any of the lives he’s led.  But maybe it’s time to consider it; maybe if he built the right set of wings he’d get to see his angel fly. 

Licht draws his foot out of Hyde’s gentle grasp, and Hyde looks up for the first time since Licht rolled over to face him.  A mistake—the moment their eyes meet Hyde’s muscles lock in place.

“You enjoy this,” Licht says, voice low and hypnotic.  He tilts his head to the side.

Hyde’s mouth falls open a little bit and his voice dries up in his throat.  Heat pounds in his temples.

Licht sits up slowly; Hyde can’t move, can’t speak, can barely breathe as those hard eyes get closer.  Long fingers slide Hyde’s glasses off his face and set them on the bedside table with a tiny  _ click.  _ And then his cool hand cradles Hyde’s jaw, pulls his face to one side then the other, examining him carefully.

“You’re good at this,” Licht murmurs.  Each word is calculated; he says it to measure its effect.  And he gets the result he desires.

Hyde’s eyes go a little glassy and a blush pops up on his cheekbones—like he’s some sort of sweet young ingénue and not a centuries-old monster.  He leans forward as Licht leans back as if pulled by an invisible string. 

Licht stops him with a foot on his shoulder.

“Do you think you’ve earned that kind of reward?”

His toes dig into Hyde’s shoulder, and Hyde swallows painfully.

“Lich-tan, I—“

“Hush.”  Licht removes his foot, and Hyde nearly collapses forward.  Catching himself on his hands, Hyde hovers over Licht’s body for a breathless moment, until his angel grabs him by his collar and yanks him in.

Hyde drowns as Licht drinks him down in one long, blazing, blistering kiss.  Licht slings an arm around Hyde’s neck, lifts his knees to bracket Hyde’s hips, and holds him captive with his body until Hyde’s eyes slip shut and all the tension leaves him in a rush.

Then he pulls back as easy as he drew Hyde in, leaving nothing but a lingering rake of nails against Hyde’s jugular.  He falls back against the pillows with a little smirk on his face.

“Interesting,” Licht says, stretching out and relaxing into the bed.  “You can either stay or you can leave, hedgehog.  But either way, be quiet about it.  I’m going to sleep.”

And Hyde slides into bed beside Licht, strange, uncertain trance unbroken; nothing in him wants to break the silence. They never touch in the night, but maybe in the morning Licht will be too sore for his normal stretching routine and he’ll ask for Hyde’s help again—

_ You’re good at this.   _ Hyde doesn’t want to think too hard about the conclusion that Licht seems to have drawn from his behavior or the fact that he apparently now trusts him enough to spend the night in bed together. 

The heat built between them dissipates slowly.  In the morning they’ll find it recaptured beneath the blankets, shared body heat leaving them both warm and sated without any contact at all. 

For the next few days, Hyde feels Licht’s calculating gaze on him everywhere he goes. 

_ I don’t need you to say it, Lich-tan.   _ He doesn’t need anyone to point out to him the implications of how he goes hot and still on his knees, how his mind goes white and peaceful serving his Eve.  

He knows better than anyone how he was tempted in that moment, having completed the task of soothing Licht’s hurt muscles, to bend down and press a kiss to the arch of his foot.

Blessedly, Licht never says a word.

He doesn’t have to, after all.  He lets Hyde come to him and then sends him off with praise singing in his veins.

And Hyde’s never been more thankful for those all-seeing eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> i dont have a foot fetish but hyde might. discuss this over at haloud.tumblr.com


End file.
